


Two Days at the Fair

by nepiddle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Desperation, Diapers, Gen, Leaky diaper, Omorashi, Omutsu, Wetting, poop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 20:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15081119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nepiddle/pseuds/nepiddle
Summary: Charlene loves the county fair but hates porta-potties.





	Two Days at the Fair

I could never miss the county fair. I love the rides, the animals, the games, the food. The only bad part is having to watch how much I drink, because I can never, under any circumstances, stand using a porta-potty. 

Most people can hold their breath long enough to take a quick pee. Not me. I get sick and eventually I get nasty things coming out both ends. Porta-potties are never an option.

Every year before last year I managed by dehydrating myself and making a mad dash for the bathroom as soon as I got home. Sure, there were a couple close calls, but I'd take that over using the porta-potty.

But last year? I made the mistake of winning some free spicy ribs in ring toss game. I couldn't turn down eating them. Those juicy tenders are amazing. But with spicy food you have to drink a lot of liquid. I was desperate within a couple hours.

I wasn't ready to leave yet. My friend was performing in a musical revue that I was actually pretty excited for. I figured I could hold it. Halfway into the opening number, I felt a leak in my pants. I had to wiggle to keep any more from coming out. I tried to keep it subtle, but by the next number I was full-on dancing in my seat.

I started getting weird looks. I heard one kid say to their dad, "That lady has to go potty real bad."

It was so embarrassing. I decided to get out of my seat so I wouldn't attract so much attention. I hung around the back of the amphitheater, though, instead of leaving. My friend had a solo in "Anything You Can Do," and I wouldn't hear the end of it if I missed it. In the back I could potty dance to my heart's content and all anyone else would notice was the dancing onstage.

I leaked again, longer this time, and was barely able to stop it. I could hardly pay attention to the duet, but I wiggled to the beat. When everyone else applauded I yelled, "All right Kenney!" as loud as I could, hoping he would hear me. I would text and say how good a job he did later. I was moments away from pissing myself and I wasn't going to do it in the amphitheater.

I was desperate enough to consider giving the porta-potty a try. But after one look at the long line I knew I would never make it. So I booked it to the parking lot.

I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I'd find a bush to squat behind? Or I'd run to a restaurant across the street? It didn't matter. The floodgates opened and I was peeing full force. The warm pee quickly spread across the thighs and back pockets of my tight jeans. It trickled down my legs and into my shoes. The dust at my feet turned into a muddy puddle, which spread several inches in every direction.

I couldn't believe I'd had that much pee in me, or even that I'd wet myself to begin with. I hadn't peed my pants since I was five years old. But what I believed couldn't change how my pants were sticking to me, or the squelching my shoes made when I walked. There was nothing I could do but start the humiliating walk home.

I was determined to keep that disaster from ever happening again. So this year, I wore a diaper to the fair. It was a little embarrassing, but pissing myself had been so much worse. I wore overalls so I wouldn't have to worry about the diaper showing under my waistband. I was ready to have fun without worrying about how much I drank or even looking at a porta-potty. 

Reveling in my freedom, I bought a large lemonade at the fair. I had been missing out on that home-mixed lemonade for years, which was a shame. I'd never had anything more refreshing. I ate all the spicy food I could and downed all the lemonade I could to keep my mouth cool.

As the urge to pee built, I tried to resist. Peeing in a diaper _was_ kind of humiliating. But I thought of how awful the porta-potties smelled, and how much better I'd feel if I just . . . relaxed . . .

My crotch got warm. I could faintly hear the pee dribbling in my diaper, and I glanced around to see if anyone else noticed. Nobody was even looking my way. I felt the diaper expand slightly as I wet the padding. I casually put my hands in my back pockets, feeling if the diaper was leaking. My overalls were perfectly dry.

My diaper squished around me as I sat myself on a bench. I discreetly checked if my crotch was also dry. Success! I couldn't believe what I had just gotten away with. Why hadn't I thought of this before? I treated myself to another celebratory lemonade.

As the day went on, my squishy diaper got a little uncomfortable, but it wasn't too bad. Not much worse than wearing a pad during my period. The trouble started when I went on the fair's biggest roller coaster. When it looped upside down, my bladder pushed against the lap bar and I unexpectedly peed again. My cool diaper was suddenly rewet with warm pee. 

I had thought my diaper was wet before, but now it was soaked. When I stepped off the roller coaster, the diaper hung heavily from my body. At least my seat didn't look wet. I discreetly checked myself again and luckily I was still dry. But I was sure that if I peed again, my diaper would leak.

I regretted not bringing a backup diaper. But even if I had, where would I change? Definitely not in the porta-potty. I would be fine, though. I just had to hold it until I got home. There was nothing to hold anyway. Surely all the liquid I'd drunk had gone through me now.

So I got in line for the ferris wheel. I always waited to ride it until dark, when it lit up and you could see the city lights below. Apparently a lot of other people had the same idea, because the line was long. About halfway through the line, I realized I had to pee again. It wasn't urgent, though. I was sure I could make it through the rest of the line and the ride as well as walk home before I peed. I would be fine.

By the time I was loaded onto the ferris wheel, I felt a little more desperate. Still manageable, though. 

I enjoyed my three loops around the ferris wheel. But when I went up for the last loop, the ride lurched to a sudden stop and as the lap bar pressed against my bladder again, I leaked slightly.

"Eep!" I squeaked and checked myself. Still dry. I relaxed. I hadn't expected to stop so abruptly, but at least I was at the top and had the best view.

Eventually I got bored. I checked my watch and saw that fifteen minutes had gone by. Fifteen! The ferris wheel never stopped for that long.

A megaphone sounded from below. "Passengers of the ferris wheel, please sit tight. We are currently having technical difficulties. Do not attempt to climb out of your seats. Thank you for your patience."

I groaned. It was just my luck. Of course the ferris wheel would break down while my diaper was soaked and I had to pee. After all my precautions I was still doomed to piss myself. 

I refused to give up all hope, though. I muttered, "Please don't take long. Please don't take long."

For the next ten minutes I was fine. After another ten I was clenching my legs together. When I started potty-dancing, I stopped keeping track of the time. It only made me feel more anxious.

I tried to think of something else, anything else. But my mind kept going back to my soaked diaper and how I was about to soak my overalls too. I potty-danced so violently my chair shook too. One of my neighbors on the ride asked, "Are you okay over there?"

Oh great. Now I had an audience. I could only choke out a strangled "No!"

"Are you having some kind of seizure or do you just have to pee?"

"Gotta - ugh - gotta pee!"

"Hold on, hold on! I'm sure they'll let us down soon."

"I'm - trying," I groaned. It was getting really bad. I was letting out a series of short leaks, each one getting harder and harder to hold back.

The ferris wheel lurched forward, only to stop again. My bladder pressed against the lap bar again, and that was it for my self control. My pee seeped through the leg holes of my diaper and pooled in my seat. There was no doubt my overalls were wet now. "No . . . no . . ." I moaned softly.

Horrified, I watched my pee spread across either side of me and out the corners of my seat, dripping down to the bars below. I prayed my pee wouldn't fall on any people. I was already embarrassed enough. 

After a few more lurching starts, the ride started moving again, just too late. Everyone cheered except for me. As I rode to the bottom, things got even worse - I realized I had to poop, too. I tried to fart so I could take some of the pressure off, but that only made the situation worse.

When I got to the bottom, the ride attendant looked at me with pity. But before she could say anything, I unbuckled myself from the seat and ran off. "I'm sorry!" I called behind me.

This was beyond humiliating. As I ran, I felt my poop pushing out of my butt hole. I stopped and leaned over, trying to relieve the pressure, but again I only made things worse. The poop slid out of me, displacing more of my pee, which trickled down my legs. As I pooped, more pee squeezed out of my bladder.  Since I had been sitting down before, the fabric below my knees had been relatively dry. Not so anymore. Pee dribbled down my overalls, leaving me even wetter.

My diaper hung even more heavily than before. As I walked, it swung between my legs, making a wet sound when it hit them. If I had thought last year's walk home was humiliating, this one was even worse. I had not only peed my pants, but pooped them as well. Despite my preparations, I left the fair just as wet as before.

This would be enough to make most people swear off the county fair entirely. I'll admit I have considered not going next year. But I know I won't be able to stop myself. It's too much fun to let a couple of accidents stop me from going. And who knows? Maybe next year is the night I come home dry.


End file.
